The Mechanic's Tale

A/N -- Hello. Hopefully the short synopsis is informative enough as to what is likely to come within this story. As always, I don't write short 'stroke' stories. Sex only happens once characters are eighteen but the start does give background and flavour of the growing years and forming of relationships.

Hope you enjoy. As always, comments and feedback appreciated.

*****

Mark

"You're pregnant again?" my father asked, and even I heard the disappointment, maybe even anger in his tone.

I was standing in the darkness by the doorway leading into the kitchen. My mother was sat to one side of the dinner table, my father the other. Neither knew I was present. I'd just come in from seeing a friend who lived at the other end of the street. "Yes, I am. I had it confirmed by the doctor this morning."

"How the hell has that happened?"

"How do you think it happened, Michael?" Mum asked, a mixture of sarcasm and frustration, "In one of the few times you've actually shown me any bloody affection..."

"I thought you were on birth control?"

"I was until you made it rather clear you'd rather fuck your secretary than me so I stopped as, quite frankly, it made me feel like garbage most of the time."

My father remained silent before he asked quietly, "You know?"

"Of course I fucking know, Michael. I also know she hasn't been the only one. I'm not an idiot."

"Then why..."

"The only reason you're still in this house is because of our son. I'm not going to kick you out because my son needs his father in his life, even if I personally think that man is a pathetic piece of shit. I'll be honest, I'm not sure why I allowed you sex with me that night. Considering you've made me feel like nothing but a piece of shit for years now..."

"Are you keeping it?"

"How fucking dare you!" my mother said coldly.

"It's just..."

"Shut. Up. Michael. Firstly, yes, I am keeping it as you know I've wanted another child for years. Secondly, you're moving out of our bedroom. You can take one of the spare bedrooms. Our marriage will remain in name only. But you will be meeting the following requirements. Fail to meet a single one and I'm hauling your arse into divorce court. Willing to hear the terms?" I can only assume he nodded but, by then, I'd heard enough and walked away back to my bedroom.

I was twelve years old at the time. Mum knocked on my door a little later, looking up as she opened the door. There was a flicker of sadness on her face before she smiled at me. "Can we talk, Mark?"

"Of course, Mum."

She sat on the edge of the bed next to me. "You heard, didn't you?" I waited a seconds before nodding, wondering if I'd be in trouble. Instead, I found myself embraced. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "You were not meant to hear all that."

"Is it true?"

"The good part or the bad part?"

"Good part!"

"Yes, Mark. I'm pregnant. In around six months, you're going to have a baby brother or sister."

"Cool!"

Mum allowed herself to chuckle. "Well, I'm glad someone in this house is excited about it. Then again, you've been an only child for twelve years now."

"Are you not excited, Mum?"

"Of course, Mark. I'm still in shock though, to be honest."

"Is it true... about Dad..."

I wasn't sure how honest Mum would be, but I guess she assumed I'd heard enough. "Don't let it change your relationship with your father."

"But is he... being with someone else..."

Mum hugged me a little tighter. "I'm not going to unload my problems onto my only son. Mark, rest assured I love you and will always be your mother." She lifted my chin and I noticed she was crying. I hugged her tighter, feeling the sob escape her. "Well, at least my son still loves me."

"Always, Mum."

She took a few minutes to compose herself. "I'll always be Mum. And he'll always be your father. What happens between us shouldn't affect you, okay?"

"Okay, Mum."

I didn't know much about pregnancy, still being a kid, but I promised myself to help from that day on.

Mum was twenty years old when she had me, thirty-two years old when she fell pregnant a second time. My parents were both educated professionals. Dad worked in finance and provided a comfortable lifestyle, despite what he was doing on the side. Maybe it was a guilty conscience? Mum was a lawyer and, after giving birth to me, had spent two years raising me before returning to work. I probably spent more time with my grandparents than my parents most of the time. I knew Mum hated being apart from me. We always had breakfast together before she drove me to school, but I spent the afternoons at my grandparents, my grandmother collecting me as she didn't work. As for my father, I usually only saw him an hour or so during the week before I went to bed, and usually on the weekends, depending on his plans.

She noticed straight away I was doing what I could to help her. I was excited at the idea of having a younger brother or sister. Most of my friends had siblings, generally closer in age, but it meant they had company at home, at least. I'd found growing up a little isolating at times, though Mum had obviously done her best, ensuring she spent nearly all weekend keeping my company, even though I knew she was tired.

I think we were both surprised when she sat me down and told me that not only was she going to have a daughter, she was going to have twin daughters. I thought that was so cool, and the fact I was even more excited made Mum cry again. She hugged me for what felt like hours, hearing her mutter that at least one male in the house was excited.

Even I felt the distance between my parents during the pregnancy. Dad was coming home later and any affection Mum had for him was definitely on me and her unborn twins by now. She was still hard at work with her job, but she explained to me things like maternity leave, and that once she'd given birth, she'd be home for nearly a year before she would go back to work, adding it would only be part-time until the kids were at school. She was surprised her firm agreed, but they didn't want to lose her.

"What about Dad?" I asked one night at dinner, Mum now looking quite large. Considering she was only around five-foot-five, she had a big belly by now. I would sit next to her occasionally, taking my hand and placing it on her belly to feel the babies kicking. I'd chuckle and it felt like my future siblings giving me a high five.

"Don't worry about your father, Mark."

I looked down at my dinner plate, playing with my food. "Mum... It feels like he doesn't care about me anymore..."

I heard her chair scrape and I was soon wrapped in a hug. We both had a little cry. Then it kicked off that night once I went to bed. I heard raised voices, sneaking out of my room as they were in the dining room once again. "Your own son has picked up on it, Michael!"

"I didn't mind having him, Cathy. I do love my son, never doubt that. But I didn't plan nor want another two children."

"You were the one that wanted sex that night."

"I thought you were..."

"Could have worn a fucking condom or pulled out, Michael! Considering however many fucking women you're probably with nowadays, I should probably get myself tested."

"Not like you want to fuck me anyway! I'm surprised I could even get it up for you that night!"

Silence. Interminable silence. Then I heard Mum crying. "You fucking bastard," she sobbed, "I've given you some of the best years of my life and all you've done is cheat on me at every turn."

That's when I appeared in the doorway. "Mum?" I whispered before I walked to cuddle into her.

Dad got to his feet. "You know what? I'm done. It's obvious this marriage is over. I've already put things into place in the event this arrangement grew intolerable. I'll be moving out over the weekend. Keep the fucking house. Do what you need to do otherwise. I know I'm going to get fucked in court."

He walked towards his bedroom. "Dad?" I asked.

He was man enough to turn back and look at me. The sadness appeared genuine. "Sorry, son. We did agree for you not to get in the middle nor see this. But we're obviously not happy. You're old enough to understand now. I'm still your father, but I also need to be happy too."

Dad moved out that weekend. All he took were his clothes and a few other things. Mum did ask where he was going. When he told her a name, I'd never seen Mum blow up in anger like she did, screaming at him to get out and go. She then slammed the door and collapsed to the floor. I'd never heard her sob like it. I gave her a hug on the floor. I was only twelve, but I'd done a lot of reading and Mum had explained the changes that would take place. "The babies, Mum," I whispered.

"They'll be okay. They'll be eager to meet their brother soon enough," she managed to say.

Mum gave birth to twin girls two months later. Dad wasn't at the hospital so my grandparents took me. Once the birth was complete and Mum was in recovery, I was taken in to see them the first time. She was holding one in each arm. Despite having just gone through labour and everything that went with it, and Mum hadn't held back in explaining, she looked positively radiant.

Standing next to her bed, she smiled at me. "Mark, I'd like you to meet your sisters," she said softly, "They're identical. The little girl in my left arm is Rebecca, and the little girl in my right arm is Natalie. Girls, this is your older brother, Mark. He's the one who will help guide you through life."

I'd never felt such a surge of feeling and responsibility in my short life until that moment. I now understood how all my friends felt about their younger siblings. My best friend had a sister two years younger and he protected her fiercely. Another had an older sister and he was just the same with her. Same for a couple of female friends with younger siblings.

I entered my teenage years with Mum at home full-time taking care of two babies. With Dad not around, I did what I could to help out. Mum didn't have to ask, I wanted to help. My grandfather would come around to help maintain the house and yards. Every time, I'd head outside to help him. He'd ruffle my hair, call me a good kid. "I've got to help Mum," I said, "Not like Dad..."

"Yeah. Less said, the better about that..."

I helped Mum with my sisters where I could. I learned how to change a nappy, though dealing with number twos wasn't pleasant. Mum breastfed them but she'd fill bottles and show me how to feed them too. I'd happily lie in the room with them as they napped and just watch them

Mum and Dad officially divorced by the time I was fourteen. She kept the house and received child support for three kids. Considering my father made a lot of money, and Mum had received sole custody of the three children, she received enough money that she sat me down and explained that she would work part-time until my sisters were at school.

"You'll be seventeen by then, Mark. Becoming your own man but I'm hoping..." She looked awkward. "I know you're still young, but I know your sisters would love you to stay for a while after you enter adulthood."

"I'm still only fourteen, Mum, but I promise right now I'm not going anywhere."

Mum was more than aware that I was not into what I called 'book learning'. Sure, I liked reading, and learning new things, but the idea of going to university never appealed. My grandfather picked up on my interest in vehicles, and after a few conversations with him, I sat down with Mum during my fourth year in high school. I was sixteen and exams were only a couple of months away.

Dinner had been eaten, the plates cleared away. My little sisters were already in bed asleep. Mum was tired after a long day at work but would always take time to sit and listen to any idea I had. "I want to finish high school after these exams," I said, "I've already applied for a number of apprenticeships. Once I start making money, I can contribute things like money towards the bills."

Mum smiled at me, taking my hand in hers. "Mark, you've been a responsible young man since I came home with your sisters. But don't you have hope and dreams?"

"Of course. I want to be a mechanic. Grandad and I have already bought a beat up old car..."

"Mark, I'm more than aware. I'll be honest, I thought it was just a hobby. But if you're serious, I'm not going to force you to stay at school beyond what is legal."

I grinned. "You won't?"

"It's your life, Mark. And even I can admit that you're good with your hands..." She paused and cleared her throat. "Around the house. Certainly done more to keep this place ship-shape than your father."

Less said about that man, the better. I'd long stopped visiting him during the customary visitation. He never even bothered forming any sort of bond with the twins, though Mum had made sure his name was on the birth certificate. She wasn't going to let him get away with bullshit. I spoke to him every so often on the phone, but he'd married the woman he was having an affair with, and I never attempted a relationship with her. Didn't trust myself to hold my tongue about her contributing to destroying my parents' marriage. She knew he was married and didn't care.

"I'll let the school know on Monday that I won't be returning after Christmas."

"Just pick the best apprenticeship you can. And I assume you're training to be a mechanic?"

"Yeah."

She smiled. "Don't suppose this means I can get a free service?"

"I'll add it to the list of things I'll keep on top of around the house, Mum."

She smiled, finishing her drink before getting up, kissing the top of my head. "Done nothing but make me proud, Mark," she whispered, "Thank you."

My exam scores turned out even better than I expected. Mum tried only the once, nothing more than a conversation, about possibly staying on, suggesting I was smarter than I gave myself credit for. But she was more than aware of what I wanted to do, Grandad assuring her I was already showing skill with the beat up car we were trying to restore.

I started work in the January. Most of my friends stayed on in school, and if I was honest, I expected most of those friendships to fade. Didn't really bother me anyway. My priority was continuing to support the family. My sisters were now at school, Mum back at work full-time, so I helped out by at least taking the two little ones to school in the morning, and picked them up from after school care when I finished work.

Despite all this, Mum made sure I had a social life. "You're their brother, not their father," she would so, almost shoving me out of the house on a Friday night or on the weekend to go see friends. I wasn't old enough to go out drinking legally, but I made friendships with colleagues at work rather quickly, so found myself invited for the occasional barbeque. They'd sneak me a beer or two though warned me to be sensible.

As I got older, I focused on keeping fit. I'd played rugby league since I was a kid, and as I continued to play that, I'd go to the gym, particularly as I went through a growth spurt, so by the time I was eighteen, I'd developed into a rather tall and broad young man. Kept my dark hair short, been shaving since I was fourteen and already had a five o'clock shadow, blue eyes and dark chest hair already appearing.... And hair was appearing in other places too...

Mum was almost the polar opposite. She had dark red hair, a pair of emerald green eyes, cute little nose and just a gorgeous face. Yes, I know what I just said, my mother had a gorgeous face. She was a beautiful woman. She wasn't that tall, and her body was more petite, even after carrying me and then my twin sisters. She'd spent months in the gym getting her body back. And she looked good for it.

My twin sisters were now six years old. Precocious little things. They looked exactly alike. Strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, faint freckles. I warned Mum they were going to be heartbreakers when they get older. By the time I was eighteen, Mum and I had worked out how much I should pay a month regarding mortgage and bills, but more importantly in her eyes, I was happy looking after my sisters. Took them to school, picked them up afterwards, made their lunch and dinners, and they were generally bathed by the time Mum got home from work.

I could see the guilt on her face more often than not, the fact her son was almost the primary care-giver at times. Again, now that I was eighteen, she was almost insisting I disappear on a weekend to go have fun. More than once, I just ignored her, content to entertain the two little ones'. I know it broke Mum's heart, the fact their father wasn't in their lives. Then she reversed what she'd told me two years before.

Sitting down one evening, I wasn't busy with anything, Mum was curled up on the couch reading a book, sipping at a glass of wine. I didn't drink at home, Mum only had a glass or two over a weekend. A bottle would last more than one weekend. It was late, probably 10pm or so, the girls fast asleep in bed. Absent-mindedly watching the television, I felt the couch move before I felt a warm body cuddle into me. It wasn't the first time. Mum enjoyed 'son cuddles' occasionally. I'm sure many would find it weird, considering I was now eighteen...

"Mark?"

"Yeah, Mum?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Helping raise your sisters. I hope you never think I'm taking advantage."

"Never." I left a soft kiss on her forehead. "Mum, I've been here for the past six years. I've seen them turn from babies into little children. And I've loved every minute."

She was quiet before I heard a sniffle. "My own son has been more of a father than their real one ever was. Twice, Mark. Twice he's seen them in six years."

"That reflects on him more than anyone. I haven't spoken to him in over a year. He's tried calling a couple of times. I just don't pick up."

"Mark, can I ask a rather personal question?"

"You can ask me anything, Mum?"

"Do you want your own children?"

That wasn't what I was expecting. "I don't know, Mum. I'll be honest, I haven't really thought about it. The girls I've been with... Well, when I talk about my sisters, it probably sounds like I've got two kids of my own. Adding to that, I prefer to keep things casual. I said I wasn't moving out, and getting serious..."

I felt soft fingers on my chin so I could meet her eyes. "Mark, you have your own life to live. You shouldn't give up on anything just for..."

I kissed her forehead again. "Mum, you, Natalie and Rebecca are family. Dad abandoned us. I won't be doing the same thing because I'm better than him, and I'll keep on proving I am too."

Mum needed a hug after that, though she settled down and cuddled into me again, wrapping an arm around her. Feeling her hand on my chest, over my shirt, it was rather relaxing. I loved my mother, probably a little more than most son's would, simply because I'd been the only man in the house for six years by then, and we'd practically raised my sisters together, particularly the last couple of years when I'd taken on quite a bit of responsibility.

"Mum, why don't you date much?"

"I don't need to when I've got you here. That's probably not particularly healthy, but you already do so much. You're not only my son, you're my companion."

"What about..." I trailed off and felt myself blush. Then Mum giggled.

"Ah, you were going to ask about sex, Mark?"

"Yeah. I shouldn't but..."

"Well, what about you?"

"I have enough, Mum. I just don't have a steady girlfriend or anything."

"Sure you want to know?" I shrugged. She wasn't going to say anything that shocked me. "Well, if you must know, I have a few toys that help take the edge off. The only thing I miss is that, after I orgasm, I don't have anyone to cuddle up to." My cock woke up at her words. I'd had an erection around her more than once. I was attracted to her, but hearing her admit to masturbating was, to put it bluntly, fucking hot. She definitely noticed the bulge in my tracksuit bottoms. "Well, at least I excite someone," she muttered.